


Coulson's Angels

by desert_neon (sproutgirl)



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Gen, Happy Tower Time AU, M/M, Minor Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Not Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. Compliant, Not Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Compliant, Not Captain America: The Winter Soldier Compliant, POV Multiple, Phil Coulson Has the Patience of a Saint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-15
Updated: 2016-05-15
Packaged: 2018-06-08 11:51:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6853492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sproutgirl/pseuds/desert_neon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil Coulson is an expert in both delegation and using every tool available to him. Tony Stark hasn't quite figured that out yet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coulson's Angels

**Author's Note:**

  * For [raiining](https://archiveofourown.org/users/raiining/gifts).



> This is what happens when your fandom friend visits you for Civil War and you have the following conversation before opening day.
> 
>  **me:** I don't like Natasha's hair in the previews. It makes her look weird.  
>  **raiining:** It made her look weird in Winter Soldier. What's it look like now?  
>  **me:** Feathered. Very Charlie's Angels.  
>  **raiining:** I can't believe no one's ever done a Coulson's Angels fic before.  
>  **me:** *looks at her*  
>  **raiining:** *looks at me*
> 
> We decided it would not be a fusion, but just a silly little fic whereby someone (Tony) uses the phrase. This is what it turned into.
> 
> Thank you for the plot bunny, darling. This one's for you.
> 
> A huge thank you to the fabulous fitzmackotp for the beta job. This was my first attempt at multiple POV, and also the first fic I wrote completely out of order. Thanks for checking it over!
> 
> A special thank you to ladyhawke72 for the offer of a beta. I really appreciate it. It is not at all your fault I got impatient and decided to post. This is a prime example of why I usually don't ask for a beta. That, and the fact that I have my writing changed at work all the time by clients who are _terrible writers_. My ego takes enough of a bruising during the work week.

Tony strolled into the tower’s common living area just in time to catch the end of a so-called news segment Coulson was showing Cap. “ _What? What_ did they just say?”

“Tony,” Steve said, warning in his tone.

“No. No, don’t ‘Tony’ me. They just called you a traitor!”

“Not to the country, Tony. Just to values. Not—”

“ _American_ values,” Tony argued.

“What _they_ call American values,” Coulson interjected, turning off the TV and reaching for his phone, “which is not at all the same thing.”

“Exactly,” Steve agreed. “It’s hardly worth getting worked up about.”

“Hardly worth—” Tony stared at Steve, aghast. “It’s national television!”

“It’s Fox News,” Steve countered, as if that said it all.

“I should buy the damn network,” Tony groused. “I should buy them out and make them retract every statement they’ve ever made. I should make them publish every lie side by side with actual stats and figures. Fuck Murdoch, man, that guy’s an ass. JARVIS, find out how much it would take to buyout Fox.”

“Just the news channel, sir, or the entire company?”

“The whole thing, every channel. Long overdue. Should have done it when they canceled—”

“Sir, I have an incoming call from Deputy Director Hill. She says she needs to discuss a new job for contract.”

Immediately switching gears, Tony accepted the video call and the TV screen popped back to life. “Deputy Director Hill. You’re looking lovely as ever. Navy really suits you. Brings out your eyes.”

“Mr. Stark. SHIELD would like to hire you for a security check.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Please. You already know I can hack in. I mean, probably no one else could, but—”

“Not that kind of check,” Hill interrupted. “We want you to physically break in. New York and D.C. You and a team of your choosing.”

Tony felt himself light up, his mind already whirring through the possibilities, Bill O’Reilly and Fox News completely forgotten.

 

_________

 

“Thanks for the save today,” Phil said as he came back to the table, drinks in hand.

“You’re welcome.” Maria took the darker, taller of the two glasses and tilted it in gratitude. “What was I distracting him from?”

“Buying Fox Entertainment Group and making The O’Reilly Factor be nice to Cap.”

“The traitor to American values thing?” She shook her head. “It’s just Fox News. People who want to believe it will believe it and those who don’t already know it’s a right-wing cesspool that doesn’t give a rat’s ass about ‘fair and balanced’ as long as the ratings come in.”

“That was pretty much Steve’s argument as well. But you know Stark.”

“Not as well as you, obviously.”

Phil hummed and took a sip of his scotch. He’d been the one to approach Maria with the idea of having several different jobs for Stark on standby, ready to be implemented in case an emergency diversion was needed. The Break-In Job wasn’t the most distracting contract on the list, but it was near the top.

“Hi, hi, sorry I’m late.” Pepper slid into the seat next to Maria with a harried smile and a wave to the bartender, who immediately began mixing a cocktail in response. “I hear Tony accepted a new job today. What was the disaster he was about to set rolling?”

“The acquisition of a national entertainment company,” Phil said.

“Ah, yes, since Steve’s a traitor. Good call on the Break-In Job. Anything less and he would have just multi-tasked. Where’s Natasha?”

“Right here,” Natasha’s throaty voice answered, and then the woman herself sat down next to Phil. “I had to talk Clint down from being stupid.”

“Anything we can help with?” Phil asked, because these little get-togethers were distinctly in place as a support group for hyper competent people who had to deal with idiotic superheroes. It was _not_ , as Barton had so cheerfully called it when he’d covertly trailed Natasha to the bar one evening and she had let him, _Girls’ Night Out_.

Unfortunately, Phil realized his mistake only when Natasha smiled sharply at him. “Well,” she drawled.

And here, Phil knew, came the part where the evening was more girls’ night than support group. “I am not,” he said, hoping to forestall the inevitable, “asking Barton out just to make your life easier.”

“Then do it to make your life better,” Pepper said, following it with a small _tsk_ and an, “Honestly, Phil.”

“You’re presuming he’d say yes,” Phil argued, and watched them all roll their eyes. It was not at all a new conversation.

“Can’t imagine why we’d presume that,” Maria mumbled, and Phil did not glare at her.

Instead, he maintained his stoic expression and turned to the waitress, who had just arrived with Pepper’s cosmo and Natasha’s vodka and seven. “Thank you. Put them all on my tab tonight.”

“You got it,” she replied, and walked away while the others cheered Phil’s generosity.

He was about to speak, to open his mouth and start a new topic of conversation, when Natasha said, “Seriously, Phil,” and he sighed, preparing himself for ten minutes of torture.

 

_________

 

“I’m a fan of the classics.” Barton’s feet swung a little as he shifted on his perch, and Tony batted them away from the sensitive equipment on the lab table. “Saran Wrap on the toilet, honey in the slippers.”

“You’ll never get anyone in this house with Saran Wrap on the toilet,” Tony argued. “Far too much situational awareness. And anyway, who even wears slippers anymore? You need something, Coulson?” Seriously, how did that man (or possibly Life Model Decoy, Tony wasn’t totally ruling that out) always appear out of nowhere like that? He’d clearly come through the door, and yet Tony hadn’t seen him through the glass.

“Your After-Action from three days ago,” Coulson replied calmly. “It’s overdue.”

“So fine me. When are your donation days again? You know, bring some canned food, have your overdue book fines forgiven.”

“I expect it in my inbox in three hours, Mr. Stark.” Coulson turned and headed for the door, and Tony made a face at his back.

“You wear slippers,” Barton said. “I’ve seen ‘em. All fancy to go with that Hugh Heffner robe you wear when you’re being especially douchey.”

“First off, that robe is vintage, a classic, and Hef only wishes he could pull it off as well as I do. Second, I am never . . . ‘douchey,’ did you call it? I am a class act, Barton, top to bottom.”

“Says the man trying to prank his teammates using technology no one could ever anticipate. Hardly sporting.”

“Just because it doesn’t come from the Pleistocene era,” Tony said.

“Paleolithic, man! Paleolithic.”

“Like the fad diet?”

“Shut up.”

“Boys,” Natasha intoned, and this time Tony did jump, because where the hell had she come from?

“Hey, Nat,” Barton said, completely unruffled while Tony tried not have a heart attack.

“Romanoff,” Tony finally managed. “What’s up?”

She held up one of her Bites bracelets. “Something’s not right.”

“Sure thing, Sparky,” he said as she approached. “Set it right over there and I’ll—” A loud bang and a plume of smoke erupted simultaneously, and Tony coughed as JARVIS initiated the forced ventilation and Barton, the bastard, headed for even higher ground.

When the smoke cleared, Tony surveyed the damage with a frown. “How did you manage to kill this so spectacularly?” he asked, holding what would have been the magnum opus of the upcoming prank war no one but he and Barton had known about.

“Sorry,” Natasha offered, not sounding sorry at all. “Clint, come down from there. Coulson’s looking for you.”

“He was just here,” Barton argued, but he swung down from the vent pipes anyway.

“Well, he’s _about_ to look for you. The Korea thing.”

“It’s going south?” Barton asked with a wince, but then he grinned. “Ha! South Korea.”

“Genius,” Tony muttered, rolling his eyes and wondering if he’d ever be able to fix the machine in his hands.

“Yes, it is,” Natasha said to Clint, “and remember what you told me: the next time you got a long-term assignment—”

“I know, I know.”

“And what did I promise if you didn’t follow through?”

“It wasn’t a _promise_ , it was a _threat_.”

“There’s a difference?”

“Not with you,” Clint grumbled. “Fine. I’ll go check in with Coulson.”

Barton left and Tony turned to find Natasha looking at the hunk of useless tech. “What was that thing?” she asked.

“Why do I get the feeling you already know?”

“Beats me,” she said, but her smirk spoke volumes. “Maybe you’re just a paranoid maniac.”

“I can be paranoid and right at the same time. Especially now that I live with crazy people. And spies. Crazy spies.”

Natasha just grinned at him— _so_ creepy—and left.

 

_________

 

“So someone put Saran Wrap over our master bathroom's toilet today,” Pepper said as she lifted a cocktail to her lips. “Tony was rather out of it, and . . .” She made a _you can extrapolate from there_ gesture with one hand.

Phil groaned while Maria and Natasha snickered. “I am so sorry, Pepper. I’ll speak with Clint when he gets back.”

“No, don’t. You said he’d be gone a month, right? Tony will have forgotten by then, and if Clint apologizes, he’ll actually remember to take revenge. Natasha did a decent job of killing it. Let it stay dead.”

Phil nodded and sipped his scotch.

“Speaking of speaking with Clint,” Natasha said, with a wicked gleam in her eye, “did you, by any chance, have an unusual conversation before he left?”

Phil absolutely did not choke on his drink. “Define ‘unusual.’”

Natasha eyed him for a moment, but let it go, turning to Pepper instead. “Tell Tony to check those playboy slippers of his too.”

“Oh, no,” Pepper said, but she was already laughing.

 

_________

 

“Yeah, but if we stabilize it,” Tony said, then paused for a much needed sip of coffee.

“If we stabilize it,” Bruce argued into the moment of silence, “we run the risk of greater applications. We won’t be the only ones who will want to use it.”

“But it’s not like this is something that will just fall into the military’s hands. You know damn well we’ll keep it close to home, under lock and key. The best, most sophisticated lock and key the world’s ever seen,” Tony added as he took two steps to the side so that Coulson, who had just entered the kitchen, could reach the coffee.

“I’ve heard that before,” Bruce commented.

“By someone with the means to back it up?”

“Yes, actually,” Bruce said. “But that isn’t really the point, Tony. The road to Hell, etc. It’s too risky.”

“Forget Hell. My good intentions have a chance at making a greater impact on _this_ world.”

“That’s not always a good thing.”

“Oh, come _on_ , Brucie,” Tony said, thunking his newly emptied mug on the counter. “I’m not gonna give it to the Army. Ross can’t have it. Hell, I’ll even keep it from Fury. This one’s just for us, for our team.”

Bruce gave Tony a rueful little smile. “Sure, Tony. If you say so.”

“I do say so. Look, all we have to do is tweak the . . . Wait. JARVIS, pull up the schematics.” The plans immediately appeared in the air in front of him, and Tony lost a few minutes as he tinkered with them, forgetting completely the presence of Bruce, his need for caffeine, and the fact that he wasn’t even in the lab.

“Sir, I have Miss Potts on the line.”

“Sure, put her through,” he muttered as he expanded one area of the schematic. “Hey, Pep. How’s Dubai?”

“Hot. What are you up to?”

“Nothing much. Just trying to change the very nature of long-range, remote navigation.”

“No.”

“What? But—”

“Tony, no. Delete it.”

“Hey, come on. It’s just—”

“It’s not ‘just,’ Tony. It’s never ‘just.’ Delete it and tomorrow I’ll come home with a special surprise just for you.”

“JARVIS, delete the file. All of it.” It wasn’t like he couldn’t remember it anyway, not if he absolutely needed to. Anyway, he knew Bruce was right. As much as he tended to get caught up in his enthusiasm for the science and what the outcome could do for the Avengers, he wasn’t an idiot. This way, he gave them time to talk him down or distract him with another project, and he got something fun from his girlfriend. Win-win.

“Good boy,” Pepper said, and Bruce laughed a little as he stood and left the room, tea in hand. “Well, I just wanted to check in. I really need to head back to the conference. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“What, that was it? You just called to take Bruce’s side?”

“And to stop you from potentially destroying the world? Yes.”

“Fine, fine. Go listen to people talk. Try not to fall asleep. Don’t team Stark Industries up with any supervillains.”

She laughed and the call disconnected, and Tony reached for his mug, glancing around the empty room as he wondered about Pepper’s uncanny ability to always know just when to call. He took a sip, slurping a bit off the top, the coffee too hot and the mug too full for a proper mouthful.

His eyes flicked down to his drink, then to the coffee pot, then to the door, then to the center of the room, unfocused as the dots finally connected.

“Son of a bitch.”

 

_________

 

“It’s really erased?” Phil asked.

Pepper nodded. “JARVIS assures me it is. Obviously it’s still in Tony’s head, but there’s not much we can do about that.”

“We just have to keep him distracted for a while,” Maria said.

“Well, he’s got something new cooking,” Pepper admitted. “He keeps tracking a package and there’s a gleam in his eye that means he’s about to have some fun, but the mostly harmless kind.”

“When is it due to arrive?” Phil asked, because even if it was “mostly harmless,” he wanted to be prepared.

“Wednesday.”

Phil nodded. “Everyone be on the lookout on Wednesday.”

“Doesn’t Clint come back this week?” Pepper asked, looking at all three of them for the answer, even though Natasha wasn’t officially supposed to know.

Natasha was the one to answer first anyway. “Friday. But I wouldn’t be surprised if he showed up a day or two early.”

Phil kept his posture relaxed and his muscles loose. “Really?” he asked, his tone casual, almost daring her to explain.

Maria nodded. “Things are going well over there, which you well know. I’ve seen your daily log-ins, Coulson, checking on the op. Three times a day, like clockwork.”

“Why so eager, Phil?” Pepper asked. “Big plans for his return?”

“Or maybe there _was_ an unusual conversation before Clint left,” Natasha said, turning to Phil with a smirk. “Did he swear his undying love for you before hopping on a jet to South Korea?”

“Well, now, come on,” Maria chided. “Clint’s never been much of a talker. Maybe he just got on his knees?”

Phil coughed, scotch slopping over the rim of his glass. “Excuse me?”

“Maria,” Pepper exclaimed, though she was laughing too. “Maybe he just kissed you?” she asked Phil, hope plain in her voice.

Phil busied himself with cleaning his hand and the table and also with breathing. “I’m sure I don’t know to what you’re referring.”

Maria and Pepper looked vaguely disappointed, but Natasha caught his gaze and smiled, her shoulders relaxing.

 

_________

 

When JARVIS gave the warning, Tony placed himself—casually—right in front of the coffee pot. He stared down at his phone, pretending to be engrossed, and waited.

He didn’t have to wait long. Coulson strode in, _actually_ engrossed in something on his tablet. Coulson never once looked up as he unerringly made his way to the coffee and, somehow, even though Tony had orchestrated this whole scenario and had promised himself he’d stand fast, he found himself taking one step to the right to give Coulson room.

Internally huffing at himself, Tony lowered his phone and peered at Coulson as though he had just noticed his presence. “Hey.”

“Good evening, Mr. Stark.”

Tony rolled his eyes at the formality, and at the way Coulson’s eyes stayed on the screen. He shifted, rolling his shoulders and pushing his chest out, trying to get the guy’s attention.

Coulson merely hummed at something he read and flicked his finger against the screen, advancing the text. He put the tablet down and took a mug off the shelf, filled it with coffee, added a dash of cream and some sugar, stirred it and placed the spoon in the sink, all without looking away from whatever he was reading.

Tony turned to face him, leaning against the counter with one ankle crossed over the other, the very picture of nonchalance. He took a sip from his own coffee and waited for acknowledgment.

None came. Coulson merely picked up his tablet and his coffee, turned, and headed straight back across the room.

Tony let his shoulders drop, and actually looked at his phone for real when it beeped at him. _A word of advice . . ._ flashed across his screen, then disappeared. He waited, but nothing followed.

“I wouldn’t recommend letting Miss Potts, Agent Romanoff, or Agent Hill see your current attire,” Coulson said from the elevator doors, still not looking at—or even facing—Tony.

“What am I, crazy?” Tony answered.

Coulson hummed his annoying little hum, the one that meant, “That remains to be seen,” and stepped aboard the elevator car.

“I only made the one,” Tony muttered as the doors closed, framing the agent’s smug face for a moment before he was whisked away. Tony looked down at his shirt with a frown. What a waste of a prank.

Stupid, unflappable Coulson.

 

_________

 

“Agent Barton,” Phil said, still fighting a smile from his encounter with Tony. He tucked his tablet under one arm and gave the waiting man his full attention. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“You said . . .”

Barton trailed off, looking a little nervous, so Phil gave him a reassuring smile. “I did indeed.” He reached over to press his palm to the biometric lock, and his apartment door clicked open. “Come on in. How was Seoul?”

“Wet,” Barton answered as he trailed after him. “Long.”

“Yes,” Phil agreed, placing his mug and tablet on the edge of his kitchen counter. “Time seemed to drag here too.” He turned back to Barton, who was shucking his hoodie. “I— What the hell are you wearing?”

Clint’s grin grew. “Nat gave it to me.” He tugged at the hem of his t-shirt, looking down at the trio of female silhouettes: Pepper on the left, in semi-profile in a pencil skirt and stilettos with a phone to her ear, Natasha facing front in the middle, arms out in a power stance, allowing a clear outline of the Widow’s Bites on her wrists, and Maria on the right, in the most classic pose of them all as she stood in profile, gun held firmly in both hands, pointed to the sky. “‘Coulson’s Angels,’” Clint read from his own chest. “Tony?”

“Tony,” Phil confirmed. “Though I doubt he intended for Natasha to get her hands on it.”

“More fool he, then.” Clint’s grin changed then, softened, and he slunk towards Phil. “Hey,” he said, his voice quiet and rough.

“Hi. You’re early.”

“Two days,” Clint confirmed. “I kind of had a good reason to wrap it up quickly.”

“Oh yeah?” Phil asked as he stepped forward, into Clint’s space. “What reason was that?”

“This guy I know.” Clint reached out and pulled Phil closer. “Said we could try the dating thing when I got back.”

Phil hummed and relaxed into Clint. “He did. Of course, he thought you were returning on Friday. Maybe he has plans tonight.”

“ _He_ has plans?” Clint asked with a smile. “Fuck that. _I_ have plans. Really good ones too.” His arms tightened around Phil and he leaned in.

Phil smiled and met him for the kiss. Not their first, but definitely the first with imminent potential, because a hurried kiss in Phil’s office right before Clint dashed off to South Korea hardly counted. “I suppose I could cancel my plans,” Phil allowed after a long moment, his lips still brushing over Clint’s.

“Wait, were you serious?” Clint asked, pulling more fully away. “Is it Girls’ Night Out or something?”

Phil shook his head, amused and so very fond. “You mean did we arrange for another meeting of the I Can’t Believe I Have to Deal with the Idiots Around Me Support Group? Yes. Am I serious about canceling? Absolutely. Considering it turns out I myself was a bit of an idiot all along, I’m sure they won’t mind.” He grabbed his tablet from the counter and sent a quick text. “There, canceled. Now.” He ran his hand down the front of Clint’s shirt before gathering the fabric and pulling up lightly. “Let’s get you out of this before it gets you in trouble.”

“Yes, _sir_.”

 

_________

 

A few blocks away, Coulson’s Angels—all proudly wearing the appropriate shirts—received Phil’s text and clinked their drinks, toasting their success.

 

 

 

 

—end—

**Author's Note:**

> This fic carries a new tag @raiining and I came up with when she was visiting me: Happy Tower Time AU. It basically means Post-Avengers, pre- (or not compliant with) Winter Soldier, not compliant with AoS, everyone is happy and no one is dead or fighting, and they all live happily in the tower. Because we decided everyone could use some of that right now.
> 
> Happy Tower Time AU, guys. Spread the word.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Art for the fic; Coulson's Angels](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7046608) by [varjohaltija](https://archiveofourown.org/users/varjohaltija/pseuds/varjohaltija)




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